


Carry On

by Mohini



Series: Bits and Pieces [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 07:03:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17198810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mohini/pseuds/Mohini
Summary: Quiet doesn't always bring calm.





	Carry On

He doesn’t need to look at the glowing numbers of the bedside clock to know it’s not been nearly long enough since he closed his eyes. He slept like a baby in the middle of a war zone, but here in this quiet room it’s as if his body has forgotten how to power down long enough to recharge in the slightest. The story is becoming monotonous, and though he dutifully recites it each time he visits the worthless VA therapist, he keeps on saying it in hopes that eventually, someone will offer a solution better than melatonin (useless) or sleeping pills (the less said about that disaster, the better).

Steve’s good about it, has the sense not to mention it when he wakes up to Bucky’s side of the bed long since cold. He just brews the coffee, passes a warm mug across the table, and goes on about the day. He stopped coming to check in overnight a while ago, after Bucky told him it just makes him feel guilty about disturbing his rest, too.

Bucky gets up, wanders down the hall to the living room. There’s a book on the side table, a scrap of paper tucked between pages where he left off last night. He’s most of the way through _The Things They Carried_ and his mind is starting to wander toward what he wants to read next when shuffling feet and a dull thump get his attention.

Steve’s not always the most coordinated when he’s sleepy, so he thinks little of it until the second time the toilet flushes. Odd. Then a cough and the unmistakable splash of liquid meeting liquid. He puts the book down and heads for the bathroom. Steve’s knelt over the toilet, one hand braced against the side of the sink and the other clutching the rim. His throat’s working frantically, trying to swallow while his shoulders hitch upward in a motion Bucky knows means Steve’s definitely not winning this round.

“Hey, let it happen,” he tells him, a hand going to the space between Steve’s shoulder blades, fingers pressing in lightly and moving in small circles.

Steve makes a sound that’s probably meant to be disagreement before his body makes other plans and he chokes up a long stream of mostly digested slurry. Another heave brings up more, and then he’s coughing hard enough to make his face go bright red in an effort to empty whatever remains.

Bucky wants to tell him to settle down, to breathe, but he knows better than to try. Instead he keeps his hand moving slow and steady, waiting out the desperate heaving until Steve spits the last of the frothy bile up and out.

“You good?” he asks when Steve rocks back onto his heels and fumbles for the flush.

“Nuhuh,” Steve mumbles before scrambling back over the toilet to bring up another rush of fluid.

When he’s finished this time, Bucky gets a hand on his forehead to gauge whether this is weird dream (not uncommon, for either of them), or picked up a bug. The heat he encounters points strongly toward door number two.

“Guess it’s a good thing one of us isn’t used to sleeping,” he tells Steve as he lurches forward again to cough and sputter over the water.

 


End file.
